


Brought to Bear

by ObliObla



Series: Obli's Fuckruary 2020 [11]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fuckruary 2020 (Lucifer TV), Pegging, Smut, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-12
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22675882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla
Summary: “Enjoying yourself?” she asks, half a tease, half, he knows, genuine uncertainty. So many times has he pulled away, returned, pulled away again—he doesn’t blame her for any of her tentativeness regarding his desires.How glorious it is that she’s so very willing to try anyway. How important it is, then, to be as open about them as he can be."Yes," he moans.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Obli's Fuckruary 2020 [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619344
Comments: 28
Kudos: 229





	Brought to Bear

**Author's Note:**

> Day 11! Prompt: Toys/Pegging

Fingers twist and scissor inside, and Lucifer sighs, parting his legs further to aid the detective’s ministrations. Only she has done this to him with any regularity—fingertips slick and searching, a cool, dry hand resting on his leg to ground him, lips presses kisses to the hollows of his hip bones. She nips at the skin over sensitive nerves, and he hisses.

“Love, you feel so wonderful,” he whispers. Few have taken so much time to stretch and prepare him; vulnerability, it turns out, has its uses.

She hums, looking up at him when his fingers tangle idly in her hair. “Enjoying yourself?” she asks, half a tease, half, he knows, genuine uncertainty. So many times has he pulled away, returned, pulled away again—he doesn’t blame her for any of her tentativeness regarding his desires. 

How glorious it is that she’s so very willing to try anyway. How important it is, then, to be as open about them as he can be.

“Yes,” he moans as her thumb sweeps over his inner thigh. “Yes,” as she dips her tongue into his navel, avoiding where he wishes to be touched the most.  _ ”Yes,” _ as her fingertips brush his prostate and his hips shift restlessly against the pillow beneath them. 

She pulls away, and he whines high in his throat, unashamed of his need. He relaxes into the soft sheets, muscles loosening, though his cock is firm and hot against his stomach—impatient for the main event in all the ways he is not. He’d gladly luxuriate in the rustling sounds Chloe makes as she retrieves and pulls on the harness. In the soft moan she murmurs when the base of the dildo rubs against her clit. In the wet, visceral noises she makes as she slicks herself up.

She returns to the bed and holds his hip, lining them up. Nothing else need be said before she slides slowly into him, deep, until her warm skin brushes his inner thighs.

“How are you doing?” she asks, bracing herself on his chest.

He parts his legs yet further and rolls his hips. They gasp together, and he blows out a breath with a chuckle. “Couldn’t be better.”

Her thrusts start slow, but soon she can’t help but follow the rhythms of her body, seeking her own pleasure even as she strives for his. She is always like this, his detective, deliberate and measured until she loses her tenuous control and gives in to the sheer, unadulterated joy of it.

Few things can rival the beauty of her surrender.

She bends over until her hair is draped over his chest and her stomach is brushing his cock with every stroke. He moans, throwing his head back the way she likes, the way  _ he  _ likes. He bucks into her, maintaining the motion even as her rhythm stutters. The pleasure is white-hot between his legs, the head of the fake cock grinding jolting his nerves whenever she bottoms out, but he holds himself back, focusing all his attention on her.

She’s breathing heavily but is otherwise silent, biting her lip in concentration. He watches her face as her peak begins—the fluttering of eyelids, the flaring of nostrils. She bares her teeth and groans, jaw clenched, cheeks flushed a lovely pink that trails down her neck and over her chest. He reaches up to cup her breasts as she comes down, snapping his hips into her to prolong her release.

She collapses against his chest, trapping his cock between their bodies and changing the angle acutely enough he grunts from the concentrated pleasure-pain that only comes from their nearness. He brushes her hair behind her ear as she breathes shallowly into the hollow of his throat. 

“Mm, Lucifer, you...”

“That was all you, my dear,” he says softly into her ear. He helps her sit up and flashes his filthiest grin. “Want to see what else we can do?”

She nods and pulls out slowly, rolling to the side. He clenches around the sudden emptiness but ignores it to clamber off the bed and snag a few more items from the evening’s entertainment tray. The entire play closet can be somewhat overwhelming for an amateur deviant. But it’s no matter. They have all the time in the world.

She lies on her back in the indent left by his body, and he rejoins her to grip the strap-on by the base and ease himself back onto her. The new angle presses perfectly against his most sensitive places, and he moans, tightening reflexively.

Her eyes roll up into her head from the pressure, and he keeps it going, grinding into her at the end of every stroke. Her back arches, and her hands reach for him, one wrapping around his cock.

“Minx,” he whispers when she presses the bullet vibrator he brought to the bed against the underside, turning it to a setting that is much too high before lowering it to something more easily manageable. His body stiffens involuntarily, but grits his teeth and staves off his orgasm, even as she slides the toy over him, seeking out the spots that make his rhythm falter.  _ Not yet. Not yet. Not yet. _

It becomes a mantra when her confidence grows as it always does, and she sets about trying to drive him mad. She bucks her hips to meet his increasingly unsteady motions and turns up the vibration on the toy until he can’t see straight, reaching up with her cleaner hand to pinch her nipples and clutch at her breasts. She is no longer silent but moans every time the strap-on bottoms out in him, every time their bodies meet and the contact sends a bolt of pleasure up his spine. 

She drags the vibrator over his balls, down to press against his perineum, and he sees the light of Creation before his brain blinks out, his limbs seize up, and he comes hard, pulsing in her grip.

He blinks back to awareness a minute—or an eternity—later, pulls himself off the dildo, and grabs the towel from the side of the bed to clean them both off. They’ll need to shower, later, but it’s all he can do to slump next to her and press kisses to her sweaty neck. 

She hums as he fondles her breasts, trailing his fingertips down her stomach. He helps her pull off the strap-on, flinging it down the hallway. He is near to drifting off when she grabs his wrist, pulling his hand between her legs. Her hips jerk when his thumb brushes her clit, and he grins against her throat, weariness forgotten.

“Did you want something else, then?” he asks, laughing, and she groans, tugging at his wrist to stop him teasing. 

“Make me come again,” she says simply.

It’s not in his nature to deny her. 

He’s gentle, knowing well that strap-ones can be harsh, building her rise slowly with careful sweeps of his fingers and the steady pressure of his thumb. He shifts his leg back to help find a better angle, and his thigh meets something familiar. 

Ah, there’s where that went.

He reaches back and turns the vibrator to its lowest setting before sliding it between her lower lips to tease her entrance. She chokes on a breath when it brushes over her clit. He sucks a bruise into her neck as she nears the edge, rocking against the toy. He turns it up until she gasps, then drags it up and down with a slow, ceaseless pulse. She comes with a quiet sigh, her hand cradling his, and he turns off the toy, tossing it back behind him. 

He’s half-hard against her hip, but there’s no urgency to it. He’d gladly hold her like this for hours.

But time and tide wait for no Devil, and her bastard phone rings, interrupting the afterglow. She leaps up, retrieves her phone, and answers it, listening intently to the voice over the line as her fingertips idly play with the mark he left. She’ll have to wear one of her turtlenecks to cover it.

What a shame.

She hangs up and groans. “We have a case.”

Her eye roll when he grins broadly and sweeps her into his arms, shuttling them off to the bathroom, is unbearably fond.

But he’ll gladly bear it.


End file.
